


face in the sun

by dwreed



Series: i'm a ship like you [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Gen, Slavery, Whump, heavy narrative, lance through the ages, lance/oc - Freeform, pre-pirate lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 05:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13160037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwreed/pseuds/dwreed
Summary: They locked eyes - clear blue meeting stormy grey. Lance gasped and backed up, tripping over his own feet and landing on his rear as he tried to back away. The pirate sheathed his sword, limping over on uneasy legs, and then handed Lance a flask.“ ‘fer yer knees, kid.” He ruffled Lance’s hair, as if it was nothing, and then drew his sword again and began to rampage, joining his pirate colleagues.Lance’s sister ran over to him, asking if he was alright in rapid Spanish, grabbing his hand and tugging him to the slaves quarters. He continued to watch until she drew the blinds.Lance saw ships all the time - carrying cargo, carrying people (which was mostly considered the same thing), carrying tools… but never before had he seen a pirate ship.Immediately the sea called for him.





	face in the sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amoxli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amoxli/gifts).



> i can't seem to write lengthy stuff anymore, but you know what it's finE. 
> 
> this is in a series but can be read as a stand-alone maybe? 
> 
> this is a pretty heavy fic so even though it's not very explicit in its content i still put it rated M.
> 
> also, pretty sure i accidentally changed tenses in here... oops.
> 
> anyways, enjoy. c:

The ocean breeze blew across Lance’s face as he ran around the back of the plantation house, tongue sticking between the gap in his baby teeth as he climbed up the tall tree there in the yard, bark doing nothing to his calloused hands and feet as he scaled it. The man on his tail - stocky, slow, leaning on his cane - came up to the base of the tree and began to yell at him in English that Lance was still learning. He could recognize some phrases; “get down here!” was one of them. “You no good, filthy…” was another. “... your sister instead…” was yet another, and that one caught his attention. The man turned and waddled back towards the house, where Lance knew his older sister was working in the kitchen, and he froze in fear, trying to quickly gauge his options. 

 

He began to scuttle down the tree, yelling at the man to stop, and when he didn’t Lance began to tug at the man’s shirt even though he knew better. 

 

The reaction was fast - one second Lance was tugging at the man’s clothes to stop him and the next he was crashing to the floor, his cheek stinging and his knees scraping in the dirt. Lance stayed there, not understanding a word the man was yelling at him until he heard the words “get back to work”. Lance scrambled to his feet and ran back to the well, swallowing back tears because his mama had always told him not to let the master’s see him cry.

 

He threw the bucket down, climbing up onto the brickwork so that he could work the crank, limbs weak and shaky as he spun and spun the crank, breath shuddering in his chest.

 

His thought he could hear something through his ringing ears, but didn’t turn away from his work… 

 

He grabbed the pail, carefully climbing down from the well and using his tiny arms and injured legs to waddle himself over to the house. He made it about halfway before putting the bucket down and heaving out a sigh, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he gazed up at the sky; crystal clear blue, a single amorphous white cloud floating by. No chance of rain, heat always sweltering, the sun burning brightly in the sky, burning his skin. The noises through the ringing in his ears became louder, and he squinted through the trees as he picked the bucket back up and began to waddle again. Figures began to emerge from the trees, and Lance stared blatantly in confusion.

 

Were they supposed to have guests? He couldn’t remember. As they got closer, Lance could see that the men were shouting and hollering, shooting bullets up into the air, seemingly without a care. 

 

Lance couldn’t attach any meaning to what the plantation masters were yelling as they blew past him with guns, knocking him and the bucket to the floor.

 

“Pirates! Pirates!” 

 

Lance didn’t know what the word meant, but he didn’t need to be told to run and duck for cover. He scrambled to his feet and ran back towards the slave quarters, forgetting the bucket entirely. His knees and elbows stung as the stale air his hit skin, gunshots assaulting his ears. There was lots of frantic yelling, and Lance wasn’t entirely sure about how to deal with it, but it all seemed to be taken out of his hands as the foul smell of dirt, sea salt, and gunpowder filled all of his senses.

 

He felt horrified and starstruck as males stampeded the immediate grounds, firing guns and throwing Molotov cocktails. He could see his sister running out of the front entrance of the flaming house, carrying their master’s baby in her arms as she coughed into her elbow. Lance was about to run his way over to him when a scary, burly man with black teeth and a huge sword cut into his path, laughing as if he’d never gotten more joy out of anything than burning down an entire plantation mansion. 

 

They locked eyes - clear blue meeting stormy grey. Lance gasped and backed up, tripping over his own feet and landing on his rear as he tried to back away. The pirate sheathed his sword, limping over on uneasy legs, and then handed Lance a flask. 

 

“ ‘fer yer knees, kid.” He ruffled Lance’s hair, as if it was nothing, and then drew his sword again and began to rampage, joining his pirate colleagues. 

 

Lance’s sister ran over to him, asking if he was alright in rapid Spanish, grabbing his hand and tugging him to the slaves quarters. He continued to watch until she drew the blinds.

 

Lance saw ships all the time - carrying cargo, carrying people (which was mostly considered the same thing), carrying tools… but never before had he seen a pirate ship. 

 

Immediately the sea called for him. 

 

He could taste freedom on the sea breeze but he still couldn’t obtain it. 

 

Thirteen-year-old Lance was enamored with the ocean. 

 

There were worse things than being made to fish, even if he did have a master at his back and even if he couldn’t go by himself. He was never allowed to sail the boat, and he was never allowed to maneuver, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still learning. They thought he was too stupid to understand. 

 

His master’s daughter, Ophelia, was a beautiful girl with long dark hair down her back and meadows shining in her eyes. Whenever Lance saw her she stole the breath from his lungs, and Lance always found himself stuttering anxiously whenever she spoke to him.

 

Whenever she couldn’t sleep she would sneak out of the house and tap on his window, smile bright on her face as Lance snuck out from between the covers. 

 

Learning how to read and write was difficult, but Ophelia was a good teacher. She had a tendency to giggle whenever he pronounced things wrong, but she was still gentle, and always prompted him to try again, reminding him of the rules along the way. They’d sit out of view of the house, lantern between them, the veil of night keeping them secret. 

 

“What’s this?” Ophelia tugged the small notebook from the waistband of his pants, and Lance scrambled to grab it from her, face flushing as he snatched it back. 

 

“Nothing,” he dismissed immediately, and Ophelia narrowed her eyes at him. 

 

“If it’s a book, I can help you read it,” she offered primly, although it was less of an offer and more of a demand. Even still, she turned away from him, as if not actually expecting him to hand it over. She went back to reading the book in her own lap, pencil in her hand making scribbles in the margins. Her hair curtained her face, so Lance couldn’t see her expression. 

 

But part of him wants to relent to her, even though he’s thoroughly embarrassed. He passes the notebook to her, weak, and she grabs it eagerly and flips the flimsy cover open. 

 

Ophelia obviously hadn’t been planning to find so many sketches inside, much less sketches of ships. Lance had never expressed how much he craved being out at sea. He didn’t even know how to swim. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get the chance to learn, either. 

 

“Leandro, these are amazing.” He didn’t think showing Ophelia the drawings would change anything, but at least she seemed impressed. She immediately when in with her pencil, which made Lance startle and protest. 

 

“Ophelia…” He couldn’t be too loud - they were pretty secluded but if anyone heard them they’d have to high-tail it - but he was internally freaking out. And then he realized that she was labeling the parts of the ship for him, eyebrows furrowed as she attempted to remember. 

 

“Here. That’s all I remember, but if I learn more I’ll teach you.” She handed the notebook back to him and their hands brushed. He recoiled out of instinct and self-preservation, but she only smiled at him, eyes murky swamp water in the dim glow of the lantern. 

 

Lance couldn’t really help but kiss her, and couldn’t help but hold tight to her hand when she kissed him back. 

 

His older sister was very much into gossip, always giggling with the other women about this scandal or that as they cooked, as they ironed, as they sewed. Lance was used to hearing about the affairs, but they always made it sound like fun. Like sneaking around and hiding your feelings was a thrill-seeking experience. 

 

Lance knew that having to hide was anything but. 

 

He wondered what would happen if this were another life; if he and Ophelia would be allowed to be together. Every time he was out working for her father he would look at her and wonder what she saw in him. Did she feel the same way his sister did? Was it just fun for her? What did she see when she looked at him? Lance knew what he saw when he looked at her. 

 

Freedom, holeless clothes, boots with fresh leather, and lemonade on too-hot afternoons. She was everything that he couldn’t have. 

 

Lance was sixteen when they got caught. 

 

Lance had pushed that memory out of his brain very quickly, but every once in a while it would come to haunt him in his dreams. 

 

Ophelia, long hair hiding both of their faces as they kissed, breath heavy. Her bright eyes staring down at him as she pushed her hair out of her face in frustration, giggling as it fell into his panting mouth and eyes shining as she flipped it all over her shoulder. And then she was kissing him again, her breasts a comfortable and welcome weight on his own chest. He wondered if she could feel his heart threatening to beat out of his ribcage. When she whispered that she loved him into his mouth Lance could feel all of his fears slip between his fingers. 

 

He was shooting up into space, out of orbit, out amongst the stars and the moon, towards the sun where everything was warm and everything was bright. 

 

When the barn door opened he crashed back to Earth,  _ burningburningburning.  _

 

He can’t remember anything he said that day to get Ophelia out of trouble, but it hadn’t mattered. Anything they could do to him was ten times worse. 

 

They made Ophelia watch as he was lashed and beaten and spit on. He’d been trying to drown her cries out, because it was too painful to listen to, but  _ everything  _ had been too painful that day. 

 

_ “I’m so sorry. I’m so so so sorry.”  _

 

He’d been made an example of. 

 

His sister stopped gossiping that day. 

 

Ophelia was sent away, forced to pack up and go back to Spain. 

 

Lance clearly remembered the day she left. He’d been gutting fish on the pier, watching the ship that Ophelia would board out of the corner of his eye so that he wouldn’t draw attention to himself. The sun had been out, no clouds in the sky, no chance of rain. 

 

He remembered the green dress she’d been wearing as she crossed the dock adjacent. He’d looked up at her, to get a final glimpse of her before he never saw her again. 

 

She was looking at him, too. She was hurried along by her uncle, who was hissing into her ear and looking incredibly pissed off. 

 

“Get back to work!” He was snapped out of it, looking back down at where his knife was cutting into fish and occasionally looking up to catch more glimpses of her. He wondered if what he was feeling was heartbreak; if heartbreak made you nauseous, and somehow sad and empty at the same time. 

 

Eventually, the ship pulled away from the dock, and Lance actually put his knife down to watch it pull away. 

 

Ophelia ran to the railing of the stern to watch him watch her, until this time he was  _ slapped  _ out of his daydreaming. 

 

When he dared to look up again both the ship and Ophelia were gone. 

 

At 17 Lance could feel the weight of the world leave his shoulders in the form of another pirate ship. He was hauling in a fishing net when the first gunshot rang out - directed at his master hovering at his back. The man choked and then fell into the water. The rugged sound of pirates cheering filled his ears as he ducked, heart trying to break through his chest. 

 

But no shots were fired his way, and he hesitantly peaked over the rail to watch as the ship docked and pirates stormed the pier. As he glanced down into the water he saw his master floating there, lifeless in the water. 

 

But no, that didn’t make him free. That just meant he’d get passed along to the next in inheritance. It meant that he and his family might get split up if they had to go to auction. 

 

The relief was only brief, and he scrambled for the line to open the sail, grabbing the tiller so that he could steer back towards the dock. 

 

When he made it back there was already a massacre, but more than anything he realized how horrified he felt by the whole thing. 

 

And how exhilarated he felt. 

 

There was a colony somewhere else on the island where pirates had liberated slaves, and that’s where Lance and his family found themselves. It took everything in Lance to not ask to stay on the pirate ship, but he knew his family needed him. 

 

So it was with reluctance that he stayed behind - but he didn’t give up his dream of sailing out on the seas. 

 

He got a fishing job working for a man by the name of Garret, who paid him generously and taught Lance everything he knew so long as Lance helped upkeep the boat. 

 

Ships came and ships went, dropping people off and taking people as they went, but Lance stayed. 

 

Until the Supernova.

**Author's Note:**

> you can come yell at me about stuff on tumblr [@dwreed](http://dwreed.tumblr.com/)
> 
> or i just made a twitter [@dwreeds](https://twitter.com/dwreeds/)


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